


This time you will be heard

by Emerald15



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald15/pseuds/Emerald15
Summary: “Epidemiological studies estimate that approximately 15% to 24% of adults in America experience posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) at some point in their lives…” – Nayback, A. M. (2009).





	This time you will be heard

**Author's Note:**

> the following work may be upsetting for some readers, so please be cautious.  
> i've tagged "graphic depictions of violence" even though there's no actual violence in the 'present time' of this fic; the warning is for flashbacks, which have mainly been italicised. there is one nightmare scene that is slightly graphic, so please take care.  
> this fic takes place through a series of time skips pre-unsolved, but hopefully this won't cause too much confusion.  
> as usual, this fic is unbeta'ed so apologies for any mistakes!

Shane gripped the sink as sweat beaded his forehead. His chest heaved as he struggled to control his breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at himself in the bathroom mirror.

_“Dude, slow down!”_

_“Come on, Shane, don’t be such a pussy!”_

Shane slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a scream. His legs eventually gave way, sending him crashing to the tiled floor. Shane curled up into a ball, wrapping his trembling arms around his legs. His heart pounded, even as his chest tightened, squeezing his lungs as he drew in ragged breaths. The phantom noise of a car engine cutting off with a squeal of tyres played over and over in his mind, like a broken record.

“Stop it, stop it, stop!” Shane sobbed, threading his fingers through his damp hair and nearly yanking out the dark strands. He pressed his face against the cold tile, tears streaming down his face. Despite being on the floor, the bathroom began to spin faster and faster, until his eyes rolled backwards and everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

It was Posttraumatic stress disorder, or ‘PTSD’ as she’d initially referred to it. Shane had furrowed his brows in confusion at his therapist, a middle aged woman named Lisa, halfway through their second session.

“Possibly comorbid with anxiety as well,” she’d added. “How did you get here today, Shane?”

“I cycled. But I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“I, I can’t have PTSD. I’m nineteen, and I’ve never been to war or anything like that.”

Lisa had given him a sympathetic smile. Shane hated it. “That’s just a common misconception. Ten per cent of people involved in car accidents develop PTSD.”

Car accident. It made it seem so mild, in comparison to what had actually happened. A ‘car accident’ sounded more like when Shane’s mother had told him about his father unintentionally reversing into a lamppost; not when Shane’s friend had lost control of the car and smashed them into something that was now just a black hole in his memory. His nightmares had centred around the blank look in his friend’s eyes, anyway. He’d been killed on impact.

Shane swallowed, shaking his head slightly as if to banish the memory. “So what now?”

“Well, now we can make a proper start on treatment. Have you heard of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, you wanna come over mine tonight and watch it? I just got Netflix and I need someone to binge watch it with me.”

Shane’s heart skipped a beat at the invite. He’d been working at Buzzfeed for roughly three months now, but had harboured a small crush on his desk mate since before they’d been moved to sit together several weeks ago. Ryan, who’d been at Buzzfeed for six months, was shorter than Shane – not a difficult feat by far, but Shane not-so-secretly loved to tease him about it – and when they’d first met for an episode of Test Friends, Shane had almost melted. Their paths didn't cross after filming, and Shane was sure his feelings had disappeared. Until Ryan had clapped him on the shoulder with a “hey stranger!”, and the two had been practically inseparable ever since.

“Yeah, sure! You got popcorn?”

Ryan scoffed. “What kinda question is that?”

Shane chuckled. “Alright, just send me your address and I’ll meet you there.”

“Dude, my car’s over there. We can put your bike in the back, I don’t mind.”

Shane shook his head rather fervently. “No, no, it’s fine, I like cycling. I know L.A. like the back of my hand, I’ll be able to find you,” he said quickly, trying to not let growing panic choke him. Ryan shot him a strange look, before shrugging.

“Suit yourself.”

 

* * *

 

Shane beamed as his mother’s face appeared on the screen. She briefly looked confused before exclaiming, “Shane!” and calling his father. It’d been a while since Shane had been to Illinois, but had helped his parents set up a Skype account during his last visit. His mother had been concerned at first, until Shane reassured her that she could still text him whenever she liked.

“Hi honey! Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Mom. How are you both?”

“We’re good, sweetheart. Your father is in the kitchen, baking again. Oh, did I tell you Mrs P next door passed away on Thursday?” His mother lowered her voice. “I said she wasn’t well but no one listened to me.”

“Yes, keep your voice down, dear,” his father called from the kitchen. “Maybe if we’re quiet enough, her ghost won’t hear us.”

Shane laughed as his mother scolded him. “How’s Dani?”

“She’s good, we went to see her last week,” his mother responded. “She and Tony have just moved in, I don’t know if they told you.” Shane nodded, remembering the photos his sister had sent him on Facebook. “They send their love. Tell me, how is your job going? We’ve seen some of your videos; are you still working with that Ryan boy? He seems lovely, doesn’t he?”

“Mom!”

“What? I’m only asking.”

“We’re just friends,” Shane mumbled, looking away from the screen. He could feel his cheeks burning.

“Of course, dear. Have you told him about your, um…?”

“PTSD?” Shane muttered, a little harshly. She shot him a look. “Sorry. And no, I haven’t.”

“Why not? Have you been seeing a therapist? It’s been a while since you last did.”

 _6 years,_ Shane thought bitterly. “Because he doesn’t need to know. And no, I haven’t; it’s too expensive, and I’ve been getting along just fine anyway!”

“Shane, your father and I –”

“No, Mom, I’m fine, honestly. Look, I better go; Ryan’s supposed to be coming over soon and I need to tidy up.”

His mother sighed, but judging by the look on her face, he knew this conversation wasn’t over. He’d be lucky if she didn’t get his sister involved. They bid each other goodbye, with Shane’s father appearing as well, before Shane ended the Skype call.

The conversation was still whirling around in his mind when Ryan came over, bearing takeout and popcorn.

“You okay, big guy? You look a little out of it.”

 _Maybe I should tell him._ Shane forced a smile. “I’m good.” _He doesn’t need to know._

 

* * *

 

_Smoke assaults Shane’s nose and makes him cough violently. His eyes and lungs burn, but it’s nothing in comparison to his leg. Shane groans, keeping his eyes shut as he feels for the buckle of his seatbelt. It’s stuck._

_“Help,” he tries to call but it just makes him inhale more smoke. Where’s the smoke even coming from?_

_Shane forces himself to open his eyes: the car is a complete mess. He can’t tell what part of the car had been what. The bonnet is completely crumpled with the roof caved in at the front, just centimetres in front of his face. His door is bent and glass from both the front and passenger windows has exploded all over him, and – fucking hell, he’s all covered in blood._

_Shane’s head spins as he looks at his hands; both are bloodied and scratched, with many of his fingers looking weirdly out of line. Shane glances down at his legs and quickly shuts his eyes to stop himself from vomiting._

_“R-Rob?”_

_No answer. Shane can hear sirens._

_“Rob? Y-You awake?” Shane refuses to believe what his mind is telling him._ He’s fine; he’s fine, just knocked out. He’s just knocked out that’s all. _The sirens are really loud now, piercing through Shane’s skull. “Rob?” He slowly opens his eyes._

Shane screamed.

He kicked the blankets off, heart banging against his chest. The walls were slowly closing in, inch by inch just to taunt him. Shane rolled out of bed, crying out as phantom pain in his leg made him collapse to the floor. He sobbed in pain and terror, the smell of smoke and the sight of Rob’s glassy eyes still fresh in his mind – as they always were.

He didn’t notice the bedroom light switching on, or the footsteps hurrying over to him.

“No!” Shane shrieked as hands touched his shoulders, lurching backwards. He shut his eyes, not wanting to look at whoever was gripping his wrists, afraid of being back in the wreckage.

“Shane! Shane, it’s me, Ryan!”

For what seemed like hours, Shane fought desperately against the foreign hands holding him down, the body that’d forced itself over him, pinning him to the floor. Eventually his throat grew hoarse from screaming and his muscles burned from exertion. His chest heaved as he panted. A hand gently touched his cheek.

“Shane, it’s Ryan. Will you open your eyes for me, please?”

Heart pounded, Shane slowly did as he was asked. Ryan’s worried face looked back down at him. They stared at each other for several seconds.

“A-Are you okay?” Ryan asked tentatively. He winced internally even as he said it; of course Shane wasn’t okay. “I mean, are you feeling calmer now?”

“I’m sorry,” Shane rasped. Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey,” Ryan whispered, moving to stand. He helped Shane back into bed and after a brief moment of hesitation, climbed in with him. He wrapped his arms around the other, who was still shaking. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We all get nightmares sometimes. I’m just glad we watched Netflix long enough for me to sleep on the couch so I could be here for you.”

It was as if a dam had broken. Between tears and broken words, Shane told Ryan everything; starting from the crash, to his physical recovery and the short-lived therapy sessions when he’d been diagnosed, of the nightmares and the anxiety that squeezed his chest if someone suggested travelling – no matter the distance – in a car, of how much he’d wanted to tell Ryan about his PTSD and his feelings towards him since they’d become close, but he was so afraid of how he’d react, how he didn’t want to lose his friendship with Ryan if that’s all that became of the two of them, and how –

A kiss atop his head startled him. Shane looked up.

“This isn’t exactly how I thought it would go,” Ryan began slowly. “But I like you too, Shane. I _really_ like you. Since we first met, actually. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about your PTSD but if you’d let me, I’d like to help y–”

Shane reached up and pressed their lips together, effectively cutting Ryan off mid-sentence. Ryan’s lips were soft against Shane’s slightly chapped ones, but it felt perfect. Shane gripped Ryan’s shirt as the younger threaded his fingers through Shane’s sweaty hair, the two of them lost in their kiss. When they finally broke apart, tears previously unshed trailed down Shane’s cheeks. Ryan gently wiped them away with his thumb.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ryan said softly.

For the first time since the crash when he was nineteen, Shane thought so too.

**Author's Note:**

> i may make an epilogue of this in the future if you guys would be interested in that.  
> in the meantime, all comments and/or kudos are appreciated, thank you!


End file.
